


Wants and Needs

by piraterhino



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:43:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piraterhino/pseuds/piraterhino
Summary: The mustache was a Bat-signal to Tony. Gibbs needed help, obviously.





	Wants and Needs

**Author's Note:**

> Thing-a-Thon VII; Gibbs, Gibbs angry that Tony rejected offer of own team, Loyalty, Trust, "What do you want me to say Gibbs?", and finally, Why Tony secretly liked Gibbs' mustache

Maybe it wasn’t just the mustache.   
  
Not that the mustache wasn’t porntastic and creepy as hell when he’d stroke it with his pinky finger in the interrogation room mirror.   
  
Not that Tony had thought, even  _once_ , what it might feel like brushing against his upper lip. If it would be stiff and thick or soft and only slightly raspy.  
  
Tony tended to look like a very friendly bear when he didn’t shave. Gibbs still managed to look like a shark scenting blood.  
  
Just… with a mustache.  
  
He wasn’t joking with Jenny. Director Shepherd. Gibbs really  _did_ call Ziva Kate. He really  _did_ still have bad days. The mustache was a silent Bat-signal to Tony. Gibbs needed help, obviously. And though Tony wouldn’t be caught dead in maroon, green or yellow spandex, he was definitely Robin to Gibbs’ Batman. And if Batman got his ass in a sling, or his mouth in a mustache, it was Robin’s job to save him.   
  
Shave him.   
  
Whatever.  
  
Even if that weren’t the case, though, could he have left anyway? It was something he tried to not think about, because there wasn’t a lot of point in it.  
  
Except, of course, when Gibbs and his pornstache were shouting down said Madame Director, demanding to know why the hell his senior agent had been passed over for a team leader position.   
  
Tony had no idea how the scuttlebutt had spread about that, but he wasn’t above breaking knees to find out.   
  
Jenny broke the stalemate to cross her arms delicately over her chest. He winced,  knowing it was a sure-fire sign that she was about to put on her Director hat and  _expressly_ piss off Gibbs.  
  
“I have to know, Agent Gibbs. Did you even ask Tony about it before you dragged him up here to watch you defend his name?”  
  
She was completely ignoring his shut-the-hell-up looks and urgent slicing motions he was making across his own throat.  
  
He had the properly fascinated look down when Gibbs spun on him, and used his x-ray eyes to rake over him from his toes to the crown of his skull. “Something you need to  _tell_ me, DiNozzo?”  
  
It  was dangerous and quiet and never, ever a tone he liked to hear.  
  
“Lied on my application, Boss. Don‘t actually speak Spanish.”  
  
“Then what exactly were you saying to that housekeeper at the Marhulicks?” Gibbs didn’t suffer fools or liars lightly. Or at all if they were his agents.  
  
“Long way from home, is all, Boss. Never liked Mexican food anyway if it didn‘t come from Taco Bell, ya know? Especially since now they have these triple wrapped burritos with the layer of beans, then meat then cheese and-”  
  
The slap was a little sharper than Tony thought was strictly necessary, all things equal, but Gibbs did cast one long look at Jenny.   
  
“We‘re not done yet.”  
  
She answered in a  bored manner, an ironic quirk to her eyebrows. “Are we ever, Jethro?”  
  
His boss didn’t dignify that with an answer, though Tony silently gave her a point for continued poise in the face of the storm.   
  
Gibbs heavy hand squeezed at the back of his neck. “My office, Special Agent Tony DiNozzo.”  
  
It was old hat for him to want to puke, but be able to keep a completely affable look on his face and let his mind race with ways to fix this.  
  
He had a few things he could thank his father for.   
  
They settled into the elevator, waited fifteen seconds, and Gibbs hit the switch.  
  
“If someone would‘ve asked me if you or Jen was more likely to lie to me, today, DiNozzo, I would have lost some money on my answer.”  
  
“It wasn‘t a big  _deal_ , Boss.” He added that touch of exasperation. “How long do you think I‘d survive in  _Spain_ without you on my six?”  
  
It was a blow-off question, so he was shocked when Gibbs shoved him softly, and looked seriously at him.   
  
“A lot longer than four months, that‘s for sure.” Nice Gibbs, nice throwing in that’s how long Tony’d held down the fort.  
  
As a team leader, he’d given himself a solid B… As a Gibbs replacement, maybe a D average.  
  
And the  _scary_ thing was simply this: Gibbs wasn’t doing too well as a Gibbs replacement either.   
  
Solid C, on a good day.  
  
The  _sad_ thing was simply this: He didn’t trust Gibbs with Tony’s people yet.  
  
And he didn’t trust anyone else with Gibbs, either.  
  
How did he say all that to a man he’d worshipped for years?   
  
“My skin is incredibly delicate. I‘d look like Leather Face in three years.” He shrugged, looked directly into Gibbs eyes and kept the lies and secrets back. Kept from asking for shelter, kept from asking if Gibbs was all right. Kept from saying, “I  _tried_.”  
  
“Besides, can‘t leave you a senior field agent who plays Elf Lord on the weekends.”  
  
He knew that smile was dazzling. He practiced sometimes.   
  
But Gibbs just stared with those damn blue eyes and waited him out.   
  
As always Hurricane Jethro beat out Tropical Storm Anthony.   
  
“What do you want me to say, Gibbs? Team leader or not those are  _my_ people, my friends, my  _family_ out there and you left them. And me. But the point, Jethro, is that they are not safe with you and your damn mustache yet.”  
  
Tony wished desperately that he could just  _shut up,_  just for a minute, but as usual, his mouth had run away with him. All he could do now was dance to keep up.  
  
“And furthermore, they are  _too scared of you_  right now to watch your six. Timmy‘s gonna be watching his shadow for the next six months and you got Ziva, afraid of  _tempting hersel_ f in interrogation! She‘s come so far, but she still needs some things, some guidance, and I don‘t know  _where_ your head is, but it‘s not doing that. It’s not taking care of my people.”  
  
He feigned waving to an imaginary crowd. “Good luck guys, let me know when one of you gets shot!!  _Hasta_!”   
  
He blew out a noisy breath. “Besides all that, watching your six is my job. Mine. What kind of agent do you think you fucking  _made_ , Gibbs, if I could leave knowing all that?”  
  
Of course, Gibbs ignored the question, he always ignored the question, and latched on to the pretty-damn-irrelevant as far as Tony was concerned.  
  
Except, when Gibbs focused, it was kind of menacing.  
  
“So, you don‘t really want a team in  _Spain_ , huh, Tony? Maybe what you  _really_ want is this one back. Wanna ask Jen for that instead?”  
  
Tony’s shoulders stiffened and he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He hadn’t asked for any of this. He was just trying to protect what mattered to him.  
  
“What I‘d really prefer is you  _actually leading it_. But if that‘s what it takes,  _Jethro_ , make sure Jenny files the right paperwork this time. The team can‘t take this back and forth anymore.” He was done pulling punches because Gibbs was on the bench. “I can‘t watch Abby cry like that one more time.”  
  
He reached across Gibbs and slapped the switch to start the elevator moving again. The doors slid open, but his boss gripped his arm, just above his elbow when he tried to leave.  
  
“Do you think this is easy for me, DiNozzo?”  
  
“I wouldn‘t know, Gibbs. All I know is you‘re making it harder with your half-assed tries. You haven‘t put in a full day yet. You spend half the day back in a coma or in a bottle in Mexico. They need you  _here_.”  
  
“And what about you, Tony, what do you need?”  
  
He had too many answers to that question, and they were all too close to the surface. He pulled his arm back stiffly, and kept his eyes directly to the left of Gibbs, though he could feel that blue ice eating away at him.  
  
“A coffee.”  
  
~*~*~  
  
Tony got through the day with a minimum of incident. He remembered to correct Ziva’s English, tease his Probie, avoid Gibbs, and snuggle Abby, who petted his hair sympathetically, and told him he was the bravest person she knew.  
  
That didn’t mean that his internal tremors had stopped until he’d gone home, lovingly hung up his suit, changed into something cotton and washed thin, and finished two beers.  
  
Then he relaxed, then he was home, then he was free to admit it to himself. To the cat.  
  
The cat pretty much ignored him. They’d been living together for about two years. Tony wasn’t sure if it was a girl-cat or a boy-cat. It seemed rude at this point in their relationship to flip it over and start investigating. After all, it let him stroke its soft fur, and allowed him, ever so graciously, to feed it, and sleep on his own bed, unless it wanted the pillow, in which case Tony scrunched down and learned to share.  
  
He called it Pirate. Because it took what it wanted, and didn’t care how he felt about it. So it definitely could have been a woman, too.   
  
It was kind of orange with white feet and black ears, with a bite taken out of one of them.  
  
The messed up ear gave it character, and it twitched when Pirate was listening to him.  
  
“He‘s such a dick, ya know?” He sucked at his beer while he stroked a firm hand over the cat while it ate its dinner. He probably shouldn’t be sprawled on the floor talking to the cat, but he didn’t think Pirate minded by the purrs vibrating its ribs.  
  
“What do you need, Tony?” he mocked in a deep bravado. “Like he‘d know what to do even if I told him, ya know? Stupid jarhead.”  
  
Pirate began its nightly ablutions, so Tony stood and looked aside politely.   
  
“How about,  _everything_ , Boss? I wanna watch you sleep so I know you’re not getting into trouble, or blown up, or anything of the other ten thousand stupid things you do!”  
  
“How about, to know what you taste like, Boss? Wanna know how you smell after you come, messy all over my hands? Wanna watch your six while you  _walk_ , not just while you shoot. Fucking Marine. Need to know you‘re safe and not crazy, and not broken like you were. Need to know you don‘t need  _me_ to be the boss!”  
  
He threw his hands in the air swearing, and paced angrily, four steps across the living room, eight down the hall, and back again.  
  
Pirate watched him with a superior and smug look from his perch atop the book shelf. He was about to cut Pirate down with a really nasty remark when a signature knock attempted to crack his door in half.  
  
 _Thumpthumpthump!_  “DiNozzo.”  
  
“God save me from the Marine Corps,” Tony tried to not snarl it when he pulled open his door. “I got neighbors, Gibbs, you trying to get me evicted?”  
  
“Worthless slumlord anyway,” Gibbs never waited for an invitation, just shouldered past his second, a cold six-pack dangling from his fingers. “Can‘t keep your water heater running worth a damn.”  
  
As if Tony would live in a slum. Though admittedly, the hot water heater was hit-and-miss, mostly miss, but the floors were high-gloss pine, counters marble, and the rugs were thick.   
  
“You‘re jealous of my hardwood floors.”  
  
Gibbs snorted while he capped two beers and handed one to his second. He took a moment to bestow a gesture of affection on Pirate, who took it like a deserving dignitary.   
  
He wished vainly for a moment that he could still keep his pride around Gibbs.  
  
“What‘s up, Gibbs?”  
  
“Not Jethro, then, hmm? How about ‘boss’?”  
  
“Off duty.” He touched his beer to Gibbs’ then stroked Pirate carefully, finger curling under its chin.  
  
“True enough. We miss anything during our talk today, DiNozzo?”  
  
God, could it get worse? “Think we covered it.”  
  
“Why were you at my house?”  
  
Suddenly, the beer didn’t feel like such a good idea. He set it down carefully on the entertainment center.   
  
“Went by after you quit,” he used the word deliberately, a shield to keep him from getting too close. “Made sure it was locked up.” That the boat was still there.  
  
“No, Tony… I remember you being there.” He took two steps closer into his space, and the air felt thicker, harder to draw into his lungs. “Like this.”   
  
Usually when he could hear his pulse in his ears it was because someone had a gun on his team. He didn’t have anything to say, and for once, kept his mouth shut.  
  
“Any ideas on that, Tony?”  
  
“Couldn‘t say.” Not to Imposter-Gibbs, anyway.  
  
“I got a lead, pieced it together.”   
  
Tony reconsidered the beer, then decided it was a tell, even if his mouth felt like sand.  
  
“I think we were like this… in my basement.” He laid a heavy hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him in a fraction. “I think the phone rang, and then everything went to hell pretty quick after that. But I think I wanted to-”  
  
Tony stepped smoothly back from Gibbs half-embrace and reached for his beer, tell be damned. Gibbs might,  _might_ forgive a lying agent, when it was for the collar of an arms dealer, but he would  _never_ forgive a lying lover. And Tony didn't think he could handle lying to two people he cared about that way.  
  
He took an extra swallow of beer, thinking the taste in his mouth was too bitter to just be the brewed hops and barley: it had to be regret. He was aware of the way Gibbs eyes traced his throat and ached because of it.  
  
“When you‘re sure. When you can  _shave_ …” he added with a sad smirk. “I wanna revisit the conversation.” He allowed some of the attraction he felt to show, the warmth and affection. It was best to lie as little as possible.   
  
It would be a while before Gibbs got his head back on straight anyway.  
  
And the other truth was that Tony DiNardo’s doctor girlfriend was coming over after her shift.  
  
“Tony-”  
  
“He‘s worth waiting for, Gibbs. So that‘s what I‘m gonna do.” At least that was all true. He had been waiting until Jenny asked- and Jeanne was… “I‘m going to wait.” His lives and his lies were mixing.  
  
Gibbs absorbed it with a serious look on his face, then quirked a corner of his mouth. “Spain could make your career, Tony.”  
  
“I never had a family, Gibbs. I never had a chance. That‘s what I‘ve got. It‘s what I‘m keeping.” He kept his green eyes firmly on the edge of the rug, and his jaw hard. He’d had a week to think after all, another two before Gibbs had found out. It was never Spain that had robbed him of sleep.  
  
Gibbs tapped him under the chin with two fingers, then crossed to the door. When it was half-open, Gibbs said softly, “The best agent I know, is the kind of agent I know you are. Whether it was me that made you that way… Up for debate. Maybe… dinner tomorrow?”  
  
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a little closer than he had hoped in a long time. Jeanne was due in an hour, but he watched Gibbs until he disappeared down the stairs. “Yeah, Jethro. Sounds great.”


End file.
